Nightkeepers

as hell.’’

Sven grinned wide and shrugged. ‘‘I can handle that. Get it? Handle?’’

‘‘What are you, eighteen?’’ Alexis shot over at him, her eyebrows arched in disgust.

Which made Strike wonder where their resident juvenile delinquent had gone. If Red-Boar was off tracking down their straggler, that left him and Jox on Rabbit duty.

‘‘No, I’m honest.’’ Sven jerked his thumb at the other guys. ‘‘And if these two are being honest, they’ll back me up.'

Michael shot him a keep dreaming look, but White-Eagle ignored them both. He leaned forward, bracing his shirtsleeved forearms on his knees. ‘‘Is there any other way to get the bloodline mark besides this connection ceremony?’’

Strike shook his head. ‘‘Not as far as I know.’’ But that made him think about the marks on Snake Mendez’s arms, which meant there was probably at least one other way to connect.

‘‘What about before the massacre, when the barrier was still active?’’

Strike sent White-Eagle a sharp look. ‘‘Maybe. I was nine when it went down. You’ll have to ask Jox, or Red- Boar when he gets back. Why?’’

White-Eagle lifted a shoulder. ‘‘Just trying to figure all this out.’’ He shifted in his chair, glancing over his shoulder. ‘‘You mind if I hit the bathroom? Too much coffee.’’

‘‘Go.’’ Strike waved him off. ‘‘We’re not going to do hall passes or anything.’’ But as the big man moved off, walking with the same smooth glide Strike remembered from his childhood, when he’d watched the Nightkeeper warriors train under his father’s guidance, he wondered whether hall passes might not be a good idea, after all.

He had a feeling White-Eagle’s disappearing act had nothing to do with coffee.

The minute Brandt hit the john, he closed and locked the door, and whipped out his cell phone. Hitting the number labeled HOME SWEET HOME, he murmured, ‘‘Come on, Patience, come on. Pick up! ’’

Finally, she did. ‘‘Hey, baby. I was just thinking about you. How’s Chicago?’’

‘‘I lied,’’ Brandt said succinctly. ‘‘I’m not in Chicago. I’m in New Mexico, near Chaco Canyon. Which I’m guessing is where you’re supposed to be.’’

There was absolute silence on the other end of the phone.

Knowing that was all the answer he needed, Brandt closed his eyes for a second, damning himself for never pressing her about her family, for never pushing the conversation they should’ve had years ago, when they’d woken up with their bloodline marks and hidden the truth from each other. ‘‘They’re coming for you,’’ he said. ‘‘Don’t pack, don’t ask any questions, just get out of there.’’

He hung up, trusting that she’d know what to do, and why.

Patience couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She sure as hell couldn’t move.

Brandt was a Nightkeeper, too. Holy crap.

It made a crazy sort of sense, really. He was ridiculously big and handsome, and had always seemed larger than life. And when they’d met on spring break, she’d fallen for him instantly, as if they’d had some sort of karmic connection. They’d met at the ruins of Chichen Itza and gotten drunk together, only neither of them had remembered drinking that much. Apparently the memory lapse hadn’t been alcohol. It’d been the spring equinox.

She sank to one of the kitchen chairs, brain spinning as she looked at the marks on her arm. ‘‘Oh, boy,’’ she breathed. ‘‘That’s not a tattoo, is it?’’

Get out, Brandt’s voice whispered in her head. They’re coming for you.

Her heart hammered. She’d already decided not to go, decided it wasn’t worth giving up her life for a responsibility she’d never asked for, didn’t feel prepared for. And besides—

The doorbell rang.

She bolted to her feet with a shriek. Something sizzled through her blood, feeling like anger, only hotter, headier. Her skin felt too tight and her mouth went dry, and her feet barely touched the floor as she ran from the kitchen into the nursery, where Harry and Braden were asleep in their oversize crib, wearing their footie pj’s with cars on them.

Or rather, Harry was asleep and Braden was wide-awake, plotting his next mischief. She could tell from the look in his eyes, and the ESP that she’d found had come with motherhood.

She held a finger to her lips. ‘‘Ssh. Don’t make a sound.’’

He must’ve realized she was serious, because he didn’t immediately do the opposite of what she asked. Instead, he touched Braden’s shoulder, waking his brother. She got them out of the crib, balancing one on each hip even though, at nearly three, they’d grown too heavy for her to comfortably carry them both. But she stalled at the nursery door.

Where was she supposed to go?

The doorbell chimed again, speeding her heart rate even further and making her blood hum in her ears so loud it almost sounded like the wind, only there was no wind inside the house, no wind outside, no wind—

It wasn’t wind, she realized with a sudden certainty that came straight from her bones. It was power. Her power.

A flicker of movement caught her peripheral vision. She looked down, and gaped when she saw nothing. Literally nothing. She had disappeared, along with the boys.